Mystic Tangles of the Heart
by Malyficent
Summary: Two years after Harry's graduation, Voldemort has fallen, familiar characters are reunited, and some surprising relationships develop. the plot thickens!
1. Reuions and Revelry

AN - This is but the first part of an epic tale that will reach completion only when the tides of homework have subsided...or when we choose to blatantly ignore them.

Disclaimer: We claim ownership to no part of the Harry Potter universe, and can only aspire to one day produce an original magnum opus of such caliber.

Chapter 1: Reunions and Revelry

The reception was packed. Harry felt certain he had never seen so many witches and wizards, not to mention goblins, elves, and various other creatures, together in one place. Considering he had been to the Quidditch World Cup, that was saying something. It seemed the entire magical community of Great Britain, along with several other countries, had come to celebrate the marriage of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

Though it had been nearly two years since Voldemort's defeat, the celebration seemed to be as much an official end to the war as a wedding. Two years...Harry gave an involuntary shudder. He tried not to think about that last encounter with the dark wizard. He had been trying very hard not to think about it for almost two years now. Only he, Neville, Lupin, and Dumbledore knew exactly what had transpired in that fatal battle. Harry just couldn't bring himself to talk about it with anyone else. Neville had been there for most of it. Like veterans of war, the young wizards had developed an unspoken pact; they rarely mentioned the subject.

Harry could smile at the thought of Neville. His once rater hopeless friend had made quite a name for himself. On that same terrible night that Harry fulfilled the prophecy, Neville had avenged his own parents by vanquishing Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville was on his way to becoming a very successful Auror after bringing down Voldemort's second-in-command, but had eloped with Luna Lovegood, much everyone's surprise. Neville had never liked dueling.

Neville and Luna were now well established magical researchers. Always traveling to some new, exotic location, they were known for their large collection of rare plants and animals. They had become, Harry was proud to admit, quite popular in the wizarding world. Harry had seen Neville earlier during the ceremony. He scanned the crowd now, hoping to catch sight of his friend.

"Harry! There you are!" Harry turned. Ron had attempted to force his way through the mob, but had collided with a gaggle of plump, elderly witches. After a sharp retort from one stout, feisty witch who was rubbing her shoulder gingerly, the witches continued gossiping happily, still blocking the way of the young wizard.

"Harry!" Ron shouted over their heads, "Come over here, there's someone I want you to meet."

Harry excused himself from the group of ministry wizards he had been talking to, walked over and pulled his tall, gangly friend to safety.

"Whew! Thanks mate, "Ron said, smoothing the sleeves of his robes. "Come over here, I've found some people I think you'd like to see..."

Harry followed Ron to an area that seemed to have been reserved for Quidditch players and their consorts. Sitting around the table were Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Viktor Krum, a few wizards and witches Harry didn't recognize, and—

"Oliver!"

Oliver Wood jumped to his feet at the sight of his former teammate. He hurried forward to pump Harry's hand enthusiastically.

"Harry! How are you, mate? Wow, how long's it been, huh? Seems like ages."

"Yeah, it's been a while," said Harry, slowly prying his fingers out of Wood's muscular grasp.

"How're you doing?" Wood pressed earnestly, "I mean, you know, after the war and all that business with—"

"I'm fine, just...fine," Harry cut in, casting around for a different topic. His eyes landed on an unfamiliar witch seated next to Wood at the table. "I don't believe we've met?"

"Ah! Of course, how thoughtless of me! Velinda, come here," Wood helped the auburn-haired witch out of her seat. "Harry, I am pleased to present my fiancée, Velinda Robinson. Velle, Harry Potter, the best bloody seeker I've ever played with. Except for you, of course, Viktor," he added hastily.

"Uf course."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Velle smiled. She had an American accent.

"We met over in the States when I was playing that tournament in Salem," explained Wood. "Velle's always wanted to live in Britain."

She grinned. "I'm a writer, so I work anywhere. I just love it here!"

"That's really great," said Harry, smiling back. "Congratulations, you two."

"Thanks, said Wood. "We haven't chosen a date yet, but – ah! Drinks!" The mugs, goblets, and platters on the table had suddenly filled with refreshments. Wood picked up two glass mugs. "Here, Velle, you really must try some of this. Harry, would you like anything?" Harry politely refused.

"Thanks, but I was thinking I'd just head over to the bar later..."

Velle sniffed cautiously at her drink before taking a sip. "This isn't too strong, is it, Oliver? You know I've got a medical condition..."

"Ah, yes," Wood chuckled, sipping from his own mug. "Americans," he said to Harry, "Can't hold their liquor." Velle shot him a look.

A movement behind Harry caused him to turn. Ron was greeting a witch who had just joined the table.

"There you are, Keira. Oh, Harry, this is Keira, I mentioned her before, you remember..."

The witch standing next to Ron was trim and athletic-looking, with long, curly hair and, if possible, as many freckles as the red-headed wizard. As Harry shook her hand, it came to him.

"Oh, right. Charlie's friend, the dragon expert?"

"Fascinating creatures," she grinned.

"I'm going to introduce her to Hagrid next," said Ron. As Keira walked away to get herself a drink, Harry turned to Ron.

"So are you two—"

"What?" said Ron. "Oh no, It's just a friendly date, you know. To tell you the truth, mate, I don't much fancy the idea of hooking up with a girl who spends her free afternoons chasing monsters across the moors."

Harry grinned. "You really should introduce her to Hagrid. Where is he, anyway?" Harry looked around.

"Dancing with Hermione," Ron snickered. "You know, Best Man and the Maid of Honour." It didn't take Harry long to spot them on the dance floor. Hagrid, in his hairiest suit, cut a path through the crowd like a great lumbering bear. The other dancers scurried out of his way.

Hermione, in green dress robes, with her hair done up in an elaborate bun, appeared to be grinning. After watching Hagrid whirl her around several feet off the floor, however, Harry decided it was more likely an expression of sheer terror.

Realizing he was not in a dancing mood, Harry made his way over to the dimly-lit bar at the other end of the hall. As he sauntered up to the counter, he decided to make small talk with an emerald-clad witch who was finishing off a red currant rum.

"Fill me up again, Tom," the witch muttered as she held out her glass. There was something familiar about her tone, Harry mused. "I'll have the same," he said, sitting down next to her.

"So, you've come slinking back, have you? Is it safe enough to break my heart again?"

The stinging greeting was like a jolt to Harry's system, as he instantly recognized the speaker. His memory was suddenly flooded with painful scenes from his final year at Hogwarts. Harry hadn't wanted to give up his relationship with Ginny, but he knew that those close to him would only be hurt as he prepared to face the Dark Lord. It was clearly not below Voldemort to attack loved ones, and regardless, who even knew if he would survive their encounter? No, Harry could not let Ginny get too close and then leave her to grieve, and Cho had done for Cedric. But clearly, she still blamed him for his actions after all these years.

He had hardly spoken to or seen Ginny since then. And for good reason; in shocking fashion, Ginny had taken up with Draco Malfoy not too long after she and Harry separated. Her own family had still not come to terms with her over what they saw as a betrayal worse than Percy's. Obviously, Harry could not fathom the attraction, but he sometimes wondered if it was her way of getting back at him. Ginny had to know that seeing them together was not easy for anyone. But she must really love him to stay in the relationship despite the dismay and disapproval of all around her. So why was she reopening these old wounds? Wasn't she happy with Draco?

"I don't really want to get into this again, Ginny," Harry stammered. "This is a wedding; we should be happy. Isn't it great seeing everyone together?"

"Yes, well, some people have made it clear that my presence could potentially spoil the gathering, so my socializing has been limited," Ginny snapped. Harry felt a surge of pity for the ostracized witch. But she had brought this upon herself, he must remember.

"So then go back to your boyfriend! I'm sure Death Eater parties are loads more fun. Or maybe there's a reason you're not with him now?"

That's none of your business," she retorted. "You decided a long time ago you didn't want me in your life. That's not going to change now." With that, she huffed off and out of the room.

Harry stared after Ginny's retreating back, but any brooding was cut short by a nudge from Ron.

"Oy, mate," Ron muttered from behind Harry, "Would you look at that?"

Following his friend's gaze across the room, Harry spotted an unusual couple – Justin Fitch-Fetchly had just arrived, escorting none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Justin, who had apparently been scanning the crowd, caught sight of Harry and made his way over to the bar, dragging Lockhart by the elbow.

"Harry! Ron! How are you?"

"Er, fine, Justin," Harry stammered. Justin seemed to understand Harry's confused expression, because he beamed and gestured to Lockhart.

"Gilderoy and I are partners. I found him when I was working a shift on the closed ward at St. Mungo's. Isn't he the most adorable thing?" Lockhart flashed an award-winning smile. As the couple strolled away, Ron glanced sideways at Harry, mystified.

"I always thought Justin was a bit of a nutter..."

Hermione, back from the dance floor, had come up behind Ron in time to catch the gist of the conversation. She bit her lip. "I kind of figured Justin was gay, but should he really be dating Professor Lockhart?" Ron snorted.

"You're one to talk about dating professors."

Hermione bristled. "What I _meant_, Ronald, was that I don't know if it's a good idea for Justin to be seeing a man who doesn't even remember his own name..." She trailed off, scowling.

Harry smirked. He knew where this was headed. After their graduation from Hogwarts, Hermione, as she promised years ago, had taken S.P.E.W. to the next level and founded S.P.A.M.M., the Society for the Protection and Advancement of Magical Minorities. The organization had proved crucial in gaining the Order the support of many non- and part-humans in the resistance against Voldemort. As Lupin had been in dire need of employment, not to mention his certain affinity for oppressed minorities, he had jumped at the chance to aid Hermione in her work. Two of the brightest student s to come out of Hogwarts, they worked extremely well together. S.P.A.M.M. had grown rapidly from a grassroots project into a very effective civil rights organization. Hermione and Lupin still headed the operation, and despite their best efforts to deny it, it was becoming clear that their feelings for each other were perhaps less professional than either cared to admit.

While Harry could agree that the two were, in many respects, perfect for each other, part of him still found the idea of his best friend in a serious relationship with the man he had come to view as a father figure to be rather disturbing. He had yet to voice any opinion on the matter. Ron, however, had been less hesitant to share his feelings with Hermione. Harry figured now it was only a matter of time before their bickering breeched the subject of—

"—when _we_ were going out!" Hermione was ranting. "Haven't changed a bit, have you, Ron? Well, I won't take it anymore. I need someone more mature—"

"Mature?" Ron snickered, "Well, if you consider gray hair a measure of maturity, I'd say you're doing well."

"_That's it_!" Hermione hissed. "You are unbelievable, Ron! We're not thirteen anymore! Honestly..." She straightened up and said, rather tartly, "If you would excuse me now, Remus and I were going to dance. I'll talk to you later Harry." She fixed Ron with one last icy glare before heading back to the table where Lupin was chatting pleasantly with Hagrid.

Ron glared after her, disgusted. "'Remus and I,'" he mimicked. "I mean, really! Can you _believe_ that?!"

Harry shrugged noncommittally and was about to return his attention to the bottom of his glass, when something caught his attention over Ron's shoulder. "I don't know, Ron," Harry had to grin, "but I think you might have other things to worry about at the moment..."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What're you—" He turned around. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Keira! Get down from there!"

A short distance away, it seemed Ron's date had hit the fire whiskey a bit too hard, climbed up on the table, and was now performing a lively rendition of "The Ballad of Finnegan's Wake," with Lee Jordan and Seamus keeping time. Oliver's girlfriend was up on the table as well, but had abandoned the last few verses of, "Whack fo' the darn O, dance with your partner!" and was wailing into her empty mug, "But where's the rum gone?!"

"How many times do I have to tell you," Oliver was saying, "It's not rum, it's whiskey!"


	2. Explosions and Elucidation

AN – We are pleased to present the much-anticipated second chapter, and ask that you do forgive us for the excruciatingly long wait between updates. But really, you can't just expect us to sit around writing fan fiction all day…

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Chapter 2: Explosions and Elucidation

It was almost two weeks after the big wedding that Harry, having really nothing else to do, decided to pay Hermione a visit at work. The S.P.A.M.M. headquarters was located, by no mere coincidence, right above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes on Diagon Alley.

Despite the popularity of the twins and their ingenious inventions, it seemed that the loud noises and frequent explosions emanating from their workshop made Fed and George less-than-desirable neighbors. Consequently, the second-story flat of their building was put up for rent at a price the grassroots organization, desperate for an office space, could not afford to ignore.

Hermione nobly adopted a "beggars-can't-be-choosers" attitude, patching the holes the twins blasted up through the floor with only an occasional roll of her eyes. Harry could tell that Lupin, though he kept quiet about the subject, rather enjoyed all the commotion, which reminded him of his own days of marauding at Hogwarts. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the werewolf himself was responsible for several of the products on sale the floor below.

Harry bounded up the rickety spiral staircase, and when the creaky entrance door sprang open at his arrival, he was astonished at the sight that confronted him. In the center of the shabby reception area, two long, pointy, bat-like ears were protruding from behind a large wooden desk. A quick scan of the rest of the room revealed more telltale signs of the tiny receptionist's craft— crudely drawn portraits of happy-looking creatures covered the walls, and many of the holes in the floor had been stuffed with colorful, woolly socks. A coat stand in the corner was bedecked with several rather lumpy knit hats, though, which could only have been Hermione's handiwork.

The house elf sprang over the desk in haste to greet his old friend.

"Dobby is most happy to see Mr. Harry Potter again, sir!" The elf's attire consisted of an oversized purple jumper that swished around his ankles, a Mrs. Weasley original, branded with a large golden "D." His left sock was red with a broomstick pattern, and his right was striped with rather lurid shades of pink and orange.

"Dobby has never seen Mr. Harry Potter here in the office before, sir, and Dobby is working for Miss Hermione since the beginning!"

Harry was happy Dobby has finally found suitable employment.

"I thought it was about time I came and checked the place out. Hermione has been raving about it. So how do you like working here?"

"Dobby is much liking to help Miss Hermione, but Dobby is not liking being blasted off his chair at least twice a day! Dobby wants to blast the Weasely's off _their_ chairs, but Miss Hermione is not letting Dobby."

Harry grinned. "Well, Dobby, I'm glad you like it here. I hope Fred and George will give it a rest for you sometime. So, is Hermione here?"

"Miss Hermione is busy now, sir, talking with little people with big feet. But if Mr. Harry Potter sir is liking to wait, she is free after their appointment."

Harry took a seat on a faded plaid recliner in the corner next to Dobby's desk. "Who are these little people, then, Dobby? Not elves, are they?"

"No, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," Dobby shook his head. "They is called hobbits. They is having big hairy feet and scraggly brown hair and is very short and fat because they eats six or seven times a day. And Dobby is wondering, sir, how it is they drinks so much fire whiskey and not fall over. Dobby is just as tall and Dobby, sir, cannot drink more than one butterbeer before he is forgetting his name and acting like a hinkypunk!"

Harry's bewilderment at the house elf's confession was cut short as the door to Hermione's office opened and two curly-haired heads filed out, about level with the door knob. As they scurried out the front door and down the stairs into Diagon Alley, Harry thought he detected a bit of a Scottish brogue.

"Time for elevensies, then?"

"Oh, aye, lets!"

"Harry!" Hermione, dressed in neatly plaited burgundy business robes, was standing in her office doorway. "What a nice surprise! I'm glad you've finally come to see the office. Has Dobby been showing you around?"

Dobby looked down, sheepish, Harry suspected, that he had been gossiping about potential clients rather than attending to his official duties.

"Um, yeah," said Harry, not wanted to incriminate the house elf, "Something like that."

"Well, then," said Hermione, "why don't you come sit in here and we can catch up on things." She motioned to the mismatched chairs in her office, and Harry followed her in. Crookshanks was curled up, purring, on a bookshelf above Hermione's desk.

"I was just working on a very interesting case. Mr. Peregrine Took and Mr. Merriadoc Brandybuck, both very friendly hobbits, have been having a difficult time getting served in the local pubs. The proprietor of the Boar's Head threw them out because he thought they were children!" Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous enthusiasm that Harry knew only too well from their days at Hogwarts. "I am now in the process of planning a hobbit-awareness campaign so these sorts of incidents won't happen again. Hobbits need people like us to fight for them because they are generally shy and tend to keep insult and injury to themselves, although these two seem to be rather outgoing."

"Dobby seemed less than enthusiastic about them," smirked Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, well…" She looked down at a file lying on her desk and brightened up again. "Oh, did I tell you, Harry? Our old friend, Grawp, is working for us here now, too!"

Harry stared. "You can't be serious."

"Oh yes," Hermione chirped. "He's our head translator for the ESL classes we've been developing."

"ESL..?"

"English as a Second Language," she explained. "One of the major obstacles in achieving equal rights for magical minorities is that many of them don't speak our language. Our current group of most-need is, of course, the Giants. Ever since they aided Dumbledore with, well, you remember…" Hermione trailed off, realizing that Harry might not want to be reminded of those circumstances. "Anyway, some have expressed interest in being integrated into human society."

"Oh, really?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He pictured Hagrid in his professional attire— semi-slicked hair and that horrible hairy brown suit— and then tried to imagine a number of Hagrid's considerably larger relatives strolling down Diagon Alley in similar fashion. He shuddered involuntarily.

"So, enough about my work, what have you been up to?"

Harry cast around for a comfortable subject in his life, as there were a lot of issues still too painful for him to discuss at the moment. "Well, Ron took me to the Aberdeen Quidditch Tournament the other day—"

Hermione snorted at the mention of her old flame. "I'd prefer not to talk about Ron. I've got quite enough on my hands right now without having to deal with that nasty, immature pest."

"Hermione," Harry interjected, "We're only looking out for you, you know. It's been ages since you took a break from your work and had a chance to talk to people your own age, or your own _species_, for that matter."

"Oh so that's what this is about, is it!" Hermione exploded. "You know, Harry, I would have though you of all people would understand! I know Remus' and my relationship might seem strange to everyone too _shallow _to be accepting, but we really have a lot in common and I'm not going to let a few jealous friends get between us! I'm not like you, Harry. I don't give up on a relationship the minute it seems like it might not work. I know you still regret what you did to Ginny. I'm not going to be like that. I have a lot of pressure in my life right now that Remus understands better than any of you!"

Harry stared blankly for a moment, taken aback by his friend's sudden outburst.

"We— I— I mean, I didn't come here to attack you, Hermione. I just thought you might like to talk…"

Hermione instantly realized her mistake in lashing out at her friend. "I'm sorry, Harry! I know you're going through a lot too. I just miss Ginny, and, well… I'm very happy in my job and my relationship." And deliberately changing the subject, she added, "So… can I sign you up to volunteer around here once and a while?"

"Uh, I'll have to think about that one. Aurors can't commit to a lot, you know—" His excuse was interrupted by an unusually loud bang from downstairs that knocked all of them to the ground, including Dobby, whose shrill yelp of surprise echoed through the office.

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned as she stood up and dusted herself off. "I thought I sent Remus down there to make those two behave. Obviously he wasn't successful. I'm going to have to give them a talking to! Really, we can't conduct business with all these disruptions…"

Harry followed her down the winding staircase, eager to see what crazy scheme his old Quidditch buddies were up to.

-

As the two friends pushed open the door to the Weasleys' workshop, they were engulfed by a great rolling cloud of blue smoke. Harry could hear voices hastily muttering clean-up spells between coughs.

Harry and Hermione waved their hands to clear the air, nearly choking on the thick smoke that smelled vaguely like Neville's beloved _Mimbulus mimbletonia_.

Stepping into the room, they saw Fred, George, and Lupin standing around a smoking cauldron, dripping with what appeared to be some sort of blue goo. The workroom of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Gadgets of every shape and size cluttered the counters. There were shelves upon shelves of bubbling, smoking, brightly-colored potions, the walls and ceiling were riddled with semi-patched holes, and Harry could feel his feet sticking to the floor with each step. In a place of honour in the center of the far wall hung a large portrait of the twins in their crimson Quidditch robes, beaming and brandishing their brooms.

"What in Merlin's name is going on down here?" Hermione demanded.

Fred and George grinned rather devilishly at each other as Lupin stammered, "What? Oh, well, you see… I, ah, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to disclose that information. Product's not on the market yet, you know."

Hermione's condensation only increased with that evasion. "'You're not at liberty?' You were supposed to be calming them down, not assisting them!"

"Well, they were going about the spell all wrong. I couldn't just stand back and let them make a mess of it."

At that moment, a large blueberry-shaded drop of goo detatched itself from the ceiling and landed squarely on Hermione's nose.

"I'd say this still looks like quite a mess," she retorted as she wiped the blue glob off her face, leaving a large sticky smear.

Fred chuckled heartily. "Who would have guessed Professor Lupin had such a mind for pranking spells?"

"Bloody brilliant!" George concurred.

A grin spread itself across Harry's face. "Old Moony's had years of practice at that sort of thing."

Lupin's eyes went wide, almost fearful, as Harry realized what he had just said. "I mean, that is to say—" But the twins were too sharp.

"_Moony_?" asked Fred, whipping his head around towards Lupin.

"As in, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?" added George, also eyeing the former professor.

"Of the Marauder's Map!" the twins chorused, excitedly.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

The twins advanced eagerly, eyes glittering at the prospect of discovering the true identity of, to their knowledge, one of Hogwarts' greatest schemers— one who, albeit unwittingly, had aided them in some of their grandest pursuits. Lupin raised his hands defensively.

"It was a long time ago, and I had help. I'm afraid…" he trailed off for moment, remembering, then shook his head. "I'm afraid the secrets of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are yet another issue I'm not at liberty to discuss."

The twins nodded solemnly. "Fair enough, mate," said George, clapping a hand on Lupin's shoulder. "But I do believe," said Fred, taking his other shoulder, and steering him out into the shop, "I foresee some profitable business arrangements in your future…"


	3. Infidelity and Intrigue

Disclaimer:see previous chapter

AN **- **To all our faithful readers out there, sorry about the wait. It's been a pretty crazy summer, but the fanfic writing is back in full swing and we've got not one, but TWO amazing chapters to post this time. So read and review if you will, any and all comments are welcome. Oh, and we would just like to note that the first three chapters of this fic were written BEFORE HP6, so that whole bit about how Harry dumps Ginny because he's being noble and wants to protect her - you read it here first, folks! Eventuallythe first chapterwill be altered slightly to fit the current HP universe, but for now, on with the show...

Chapter Three: Infidelity and Intrigue

"Bloody oafs!" Draco fumed, as he hurled his goblet against the stone fireplace; the glass splintered and scarlet wine seeped down the wall, pooling on the stone floor of the sinister-looking chamber. Draco stalked across the room and plunked his elbows on the mantle in an incensed sulk. He then wheeled his head around and glared at the objects of his malcontent: his faithful cronies Crabbe and Goyle shrank back against the sofa on which they sat.

"You can't just Apparate in and out of Azkaban! And the last time you geniuses tried to apparate, you ended up in Madam Malkins, tangled up in a heap of pink lace!" Also quivering mutely were an assortment of Slytherin consorts. Draco further berated the lot: "I called you all here hoping we might plan a way to save our bloody parents. But the best you addle-brained half-wits can do is land us in a dress shop!" He heaved a great sigh and pondered his next move. "Even if we did manage to break them out, they'd need to be kept in hiding. Unless…unless…we hid them where everyone could see them…" Draco grinned connivingly, but was met with blank stares. "Unless we switched them with Ministry officials, administrators, Aurors! Think of it—we'd be in complete control, and no one would suspect a thing."

Goyle glanced around for support, and then raised a hand tentatively. "Yes?" snapped Draco.

"Wouldn't, uh, that is, don't you think people would suspect if your dad was all of a sudden the Minister of Magic?"

Another outburst was bit back by Draco, and he began to speak to Goyle slowly, as if addressing a very dull, young child. "That's what _polyjuice_ potion is for, you dolt. And we could modify it, to make it last longer and harder to trace. In the meantime, we could dispose of those Muggle lovers so they could never come back to power."

"Yes, if you want to_ kill_ your parents while you're at it," snidely retorted Pansy Parkinson, who reclined confidently on the corner chaise.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"I know the potion you're talking about. It is longer lasting than regular polyjuice, but it also creates a link between the person drinking it and the one being impersonated. Kill the ministry officials and the people under the effects of the potion will die as well." Secretly, nothing pleased Pansy more than outwitting her former flame—she'd never gotten over the fact she'd been deserted for that little Weasley strumpet.

"Hmm…" While Draco mused this drawback, he poured himself a glass of firewhisky from a new goblet. "Then we'll put the sonambulo spell on them and lock them downstairs. My family has put our dungeon to good use in the past. Crabbe, Goyle: you're too dimwitted to impersonate Ministry men, even Fudge, so we'll have you two numbskulls guard the zombies night and day."

"Which leaves us with just one _other_ tiny problem…" Pansy again interjected; she meant to have the last word.

"What now?" asked Draco, really started to get irritated.

She dropped her observation nonchalantly. "We still haven't come up with a way to get in or out of Azkaban." But she was foiled, as the answer to this dilemma came all too easily to Draco. "I think we can leave that to my fiancée." He put distinct emphasis on the last word.

Responding to the quizzical looks given to him, he clarified: "Ginny's brothers, the joke shop ones—we'll kidnap them, have them make a contraption or distraction or something for us to get us in and out…and I know Gin would be more than eager to get even with those backstabbing fools." He became more excited as the plan began to set in place in his mind. "I'll get her to lure them to us."

All around, this suggestion was met with roaring approval, except for Pansy, who glowered in the corner. Of course, that trollop would get the glory. Nevertheless, she could not help but be cheered by the prospects the prison escape offered them. The planned seemed destined to return them to former grandeur.

But amidst all this reveling, Ginny Weasley sat alone in her tower suite on the other end of the mansion, eyes glued to a shimmering image projected on the wall. If she would ever have viewed Dumbledore's pensieve, that visual would have seemed quite similar. But unlike with the pensieve, Ginny was not spying in someone's past; she was watching the present events in Draco's lair unfold.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed indignantly, "as if I was his house elf, bred to do his bidding!" The scornful girl had resolved to monitor Draco's activities of late because she was sure his sneaking around was to cover for a mistress on the side. However, finding out his cocky plots made her, maybe, just as livid. Before Ginny could plan her next move in this state of affairs, a knock on the door startled her.

"Darling?" It was Draco. Ginny whipped back around to her projection—she hadn't noticed his leaving the meeting. Cursing herself silently for letting him sneak up on her, she hastily waved her wand at the projection, and as it faded away, she called out, "One minute Draco, I'm changing my robes." The window on the wall vanished, and she opened the door.

"I was wondering if you had a moment." With his eyes downcast, he shyly entered the room. When Ginny assented, he approached her hastily, wrapping his arms around her neck and whispering in her ear. "Darling, I've been wanting to tell you what I've been up to lately. Finally, I've come up with a way we both can get what we want."

Ginny resisted the urge to recoil from his touch, knowing what request was to come but not wanting him to know of her eavesdropping. "Oh, really?" She coyly grinned. Draco's face broadened into a smirk, encouraged by her interest, now certain his scheme would proceed as planned. He related the plot eagerly, as Ginny appeared attentive and thoughtful.

"So," Draco finished, giving Ginny a piercing stare. "Can I count on you?"

"Draco, darling, as if you had to ask."


	4. Summoned and Stunned

**Disclaimer**: see previous chapter

**AN - **Well, not much more to say here, the chapter 3 note pretty much covers it for now. Please review after you read, it would make us very happy.

Chapter Four: Summoned and Stunned

Dusk had fallen on Diagon Alley and the pavement was nearly deserted. The three characters darting furtively among the alleyways cast no shadows in their wake. It would be clear to an observer (though no other curious soul was about) that the tall, gaunt figure with a wasted frame was growing impatient with his two hulking cronies bumbling along behind him. The trio came to a halt on the dark corner just across from the extravagantly bedecked storefront of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

The leader of the group stepped forward and the streetlight illuminated the gray hair and pale features of Remus Lupin. He gave a sharp glance in either direction before declaring to his comrades, "All right, it's clear." Crabbe and Goyle strode out of the shadows.

Crabbe scratched his head with one chubby finger, looking around the street, and asked, "So, what's the plan again?"

"You _dolt_," retorted Lupin, "You were _there_ when Gin told us about how to get into the shop, remember? She said Lupin works in the store with her brothers, that they trusted him. That's why I look the potion to look like the filthy half-breed. It's just lucky Gin was able to sucker her way into that mudblood Granger's pathetic excuse for an office her and Lupin share."

"Oh…right," Crabbe grinned rather sheepishly. "You know, it is kinda funny, Draco, sneaking around with our old professor."

"Never mind that," Draco/Lupin hissed. "The Weasleys are in the shop. Just remember to stay out of sight until I get through the door. Then Crabbe, you take Fred, and Goyle: George. After that, we apparate back to the manor."

* * *

Inside the store, Fred and George were behind the counter, taking inventory and tinkering with their latest prototype.

"Ouch, watch it, mate, that end's still hot."

"Ah! Get a hold of it, will you, it's making a mess of the register."  
"Got it!"

Fred was wiping up the goop off the curious creation when Lupin strode in the door. He grinned.

"Well, if it isn't old Moony! Hey, maybe you can charm George's eye brows back to their normal color and give us a hand with this."

Their guest paused before giving his chilling reply. "I'm sorry boys, but I've got other plans for the both of you." Before this statement could register with the twins, Draco drew his wand and stupefied them both.

Crabbe and Goyle directly leapt into action, each hurling a body over their shoulders. "You take them onto the manor, I'm gonna have a look round and catch up soon. Be sure to confiscate their wands—you _know_ what will happen if you screw this one up."

After the two vanished with captives in tow, Draco proceeded into the backroom and began to help himself to a few dubious looking trinkets. A familiar voice coming from the front of the store startled him, and a charmed goblet fell from his arms, releasing a fuchsia fog as it shattered on the floor.

"Hello!" Hagrid called from the doorway, "Remus? Are yeh in here? I saw tha lights on outside an I figured…oh, there yeh are….Well, I'm glad yeh showed, I've been meaning to have a talk to yeh about summat…" he trailed distractedly.

"Oh?" chimed Draco, glancing around Hagrid's massive frame for a way out. "What about?"

Hagrid again hesitated, but then burst out, "About Hermione."

"Granger?" Draco choked. "I mean, oh yes, well…"

Hagrid gave Draco an intent stare. "Look, I always respected yeh, but what you're doing with our Hermione is not right, taking advantage of tha young witch." He had apparently been readying himself for this confrontation and was worked into a right fury over Lupin's seeming indifference to the matter.

Draco stifled a surprised gasp. "You think I'm snogging that grubby mudblood?" The accusation so shocked his sensibilities that it caused him to unwittingly blow his cover and sooner than he could conceal his tracks, Hagrid's fist connected with the side of his face.

As Draco's body spiraled to the floor, Hagrid seized his shoulders and showered blows into his floundering body.

* * *

If that had elusive observer chanced to gaze into the street overlooking the Weasley's shop that night, he would be puzzled to witness, seemingly, the same figure entering that store twice in only ten minutes apart, though he hadn't appeared to have left the first time. For, pacing outside the store building was an apprehensive Remus Lupin. The former dark arts professor knew of Hagrid's sense of guardianship over Hermione since she had first set foot in Hogwarts, but what right did he have meddling with their relationship now that she was a consenting adult? Because, clearly, that was why Hagrid had summoned Lupin, if it had been a more friendly matter, he would have been invited to Hagrid's cottage, but this, he was sure, would be all business.

Ultimately, he determined to face it head on, making no apologies for their relationship. His relationship with Tonks had been rather short-lived; it turned out they really didn't have much in common outside missions for the Order. But he and Hermione were perfect for each other. Taking a deep breath,Lupin stormed into the shop.

"Hagrid! We love each other and you can't mean to separate us! Because if so I'll—." But the words poised on his lips died before he could utter them. In front of him was in fact, well, it appeared, Hagrid was pummeling…_him_.

Hagridlooked equally shocked, and his fists froze in midair as he gazed quizzically from the determined man in the door to the defeated man on the floor.

In the ensuing confusion, Malfoy seized the opportunity to grab his fallen wand and scramble to his feet. He shot a jinx at Lupin, then instantly apparated before either the werewolf or the giant could react.

* * *

The following morning, Harry received an urgent owl from his old professor. His initial reaction was keen surprise; he hadn't really heard much from old Moony lately, both of them now involved in different spheres of the wizarding community. But that wasn't the only reason mail came only infrequently to his window; his acquaintances had somewhat kept their distance after Harry's scarring last encounter with that most prolific of dark sorcerers, believing he needed his space and that Harry would open up to them when he was ready. And Harry had done little to herald this potential moment, hoping rather that Ron and Hermione would ease him along.

Surely, however, news from his old, admired professor would brighten his day. But nothing contained in that early owl would cause a smile to form on Harry's face; rather, he was taken over with a feeling that instantly turned his stomach. "…concerning the evident foresight of the twins' and my own activities possessed by the perpetrators, we must consider the possibility that Ginny Weasley aided in the planning of the operation…we have no leads as to for what end the Death Eaters have kidnapped the twins...we must act in great haste to prevent a new upheaval from being impressed onto the wizarding world…"

Harry's disbelief that so soon after peace had again set in a new crisis loomed was matched by his outrage at Ginny's betrayal. He thought, maybe, once things cooled down, they could start over again…Well, who was he kidding—Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. But still, would she have gone after her own brothers? It just didn't fit. He had to get to Ron and Hermione. They would help him get to the bottom of this. Only one thing remained clear to him: this time Draco would pay.

* * *

At the Malfoy manor, Crabbe and Goyle were, for a change, being toasted by their ringleader. They had managed not only to follow orders, but to intimidate their captives (albeit stunned and weakened by enchantments) to accomplish the tasks allotted them by the Death Eaters. The Slytherian comrades would soon be ready to storm Azkaban, be reunited with their parents, and wreak what they saw as overdue justice on their wizarding oppressors. And in fact, Draco concluded, "Maybe we'll let one of you be Fudge after all…"

They all raised their glasses to this gratifying prospect.


End file.
